Favorite Teams

An Indian feast, choreographed by a dancer

Photo/Washington Post, Bill O'LearyChoreographer Daniel Phoenix Singh, of Washington, likes it spicy and vegetarian, and he knows how to cook for a crowd. Here, he puts out trays of freshly baked meatballs. Singh is a vegetarian, but for his annual large-party buffets, he accommodates omnivores.

A party is happening at this house in two hours. Yet other than a heady cloud from the minced mass of ginger, garlic, onion and serrano peppers burbling on the stove, you wouldn’t know it.

On the menu, an Indian feast: Ginger-cardamom butternut squash, garlicky portobello mushrooms, lentils with spinach, chickpeas tamely spiced with garam masala, curry-marinated shrimp, meatball curry, chicken-potato curry, basmati rice with cashews, a yogurt-cucumber sauce, a glorious salad and a sweet carrot pudding. It’s enough to make an early visitor think "Hurry, dinner!" on this weekday afternoon.

Hurry will not be part of the equation. Only two of the dishes are finished, with one under way, and that is more than enough to make a visitor anxious. But host and cook Daniel Phoenix Singh has choreographed the moves in his head. They are purposeful and unhurried. He hadn’t shopped for ingredients before 1 o’clock; otherwise, they would have taken up too much space in the refrigerator he shares with five housemates.
"It will all come together," he says with a serene smile.

Singh bought his rowhouse 11 months ago, and he’s just getting around to having a housewarming. Seventy-five friends from his overlapping worlds have RSVP’d, including dancers and supporters of Dakshina, the modern/Indian dance company he founded in 2003.

KITCHEN ‘PAS DE DEUX’ "I expect he’ll have the best food," says newly arrived guest Patrice McMath. Singh politely asks her to run to the store for drinks and paper goods.

Singh, 38, hasn’t eaten meat for more than a decade. Originally from a small village near Mumbai, he was motivated by a book he read that described how animals are processed for food. For his annual large-party buffets, though, he accommodates omnivores.

As precise as Singh is onstage or during 16 to 20 hours of rehearsals each week, he wings it in the kitchen. Like his mother, he never reaches for a measuring cup or spoon. In fact, he doesn’t own one.

"I learned most of what I know . . . from watching my mom and dad cook. Just going on instinct and often figuring out the taste they’d like to tease out by adding a pinch of this and a dash of that," Singh says. "That’s the good thing about Indian food. You can keep adding spices and ingredients until it’s balanced." It’s why he cops to "cooking some mean Italian food," because "the cuisine allows doctoring along the way" as well.

Singh deals in large quantities even when he cooks for himself. On weekends, he’ll prepare a pressure-cooker potful of lentils or chickpeas that will last through the week, combined with rice (which he cooks in the microwave) or freshly sauteed vegetables.

"(Dancers) love to eat!" he insists. "We tend to be snackers."

COOLING SALADMom Violet Dorai Singh is the source of his favorite recipes, and one of the family members responsible for Daniel’s passion for food with heat. He remembers watching uncles eat dishes so packed with chili peppers that tears streamed down their faces. "That meant it was good," he says.

The Singh family emigrated from southern India to the Washington area in 1985. A ballet class Singh took for a PE credit in college changed his life and he finished undergraduate and graduate work in dance at College Park.

By 6:30 p.m., more guests have arrived, each commenting on the wonderful smells and leaving their shoes at the door. Potato chips, paper goods and wine have landed on the coffee table. A buffet spread has materialized on the dining table including a salad of mixed greens, no dressing, piled with tumbling layers of blueberries, blackberries and grape tomatoes. It’s meant to be cooling.

Singh has started the carrot halwa, stirring sweetened condensed milk, sugar, grated carrots, cashews and raisins into what will become a silky, rich pudding. It will need to cook for at least two more hours. The mushrooms, shrimp and rice are done just before 8, about the time when the guests seem unable to hold back any longer.

In the end, as predicted, the timing was perfect. Dessert was ready when his guests had had opportunities to go for seconds or simply digest. Serene smiles all ‘round. "His hands are magical," McMath says.